Speak To Me
by JoanneCullen
Summary: Angletta Daae has returned home from war. She reunites with her sister Christine Daae, who speaks of crazy stories of an angel of music. The Phantom is captivated by Angletta, even before hearing her sing his mind is filled with lustful thoughts. What happens when the Phantom is faced with the living embodiment of his darkest fantasies? Rated M! Erix x OC OC played by Amy Lee
1. Speak To Me

**Description**

 _Angletta Daae has returned home from war. She reunites with her sister Christine Daae, who speaks of crazy stories of an angel of music. The Phantom is captivated by_ Angletta _, even before hearing her sing his mind is filled with lustful thoughts. What happens when the Phantom is faced with the living embodiment of his darkest fantasies?_

 **Angletta Daae played by Amy Lee {Singer from Evensesence}**

Rated M for many, MANY reasons.

 _ **I do not own the Phantom of the opera, only the characters, not from the original cast, the plot. I do not own any songs used in the story. This is a work of fiction based off the Phantom of the opera.**_

I was inspired by this song for this story. I suggest listening to the song before hand, as it will be sung a few times though out the story.

 **SPEAK TO ME LYRICS**

 **Be still, my love**

 **I will return to you**

 **However far you feel from me**

 **You are not alone**

 **I will always be waiting**

 **And I'll always be watching you**

 **Speak to me, speak to me, speak to me**

 **I can't let go**

 **You're every part of me**

 **The space between is just a dream**

 **You will never be alone**

 **I will always be waiting**

 **And I'll always be watching**

 **We are one breath apart, my love**

 **And I'll be holding it in 'till we're together**

 **Hear me call your name**

 **And just speak, speak to me, speak to me, speak**

 **I feel you rushing all through me**

 **In these walls I still hear your heartbeat**

 **And nothing in this world can hold me back**

 **From waking through to you**

 **We are one breath apart, my love**

 **And I'll be holding it in 'till we're together**

 **Hear me call your name**

 **Just believe and speak, speak to me, speak to me, speak to me**

 **Be still, my love**

 **I will return to you**

SONG ABOVE!


	2. Prolouge

_**I do not own the Phantom of the opera, only the characters, not from the original cast and the plot. I do not own any songs used in the story. This is a work of fiction based off the Phantom of the opera.**_

 _ **Feel free to comment! All of your thoughts help me to improve and continue writing. I don't write in third person often, so I would like to know if there is anything I can do to improve upon it.**_

{~~}

 **1874**

It was a dark, cold night, a young woman stumbles around the dark streets of Paris, drunken men and street whores the only others out at this time. She had little self-preservation. Although she was well aware of the evil lurking around each corner. The sword her father had given her rest in her belt ready to be seethed if needed.

She found it humorous that her father passed down a violin to her sister and a sword for her. It turned out only fitting that she became a fighter while her sister became a performer at the Opera house here in Paris.

Paris... She had only been back for a week since fighting alongside brave men and women in western England. She has yet to pluck up the courage to see her sister.

"Have my eyes betrayed me, mademoiselle? Is this truly an angel stood before me?" A drunken man slurred as he approached her.

She took in his drunken form with distaste, his eyes leering at her prominent bust poking out of her dress. Over the years she has been on the end of many drunken encounters with men. As did many women who dared to walk these streets alone at night.

"I can assure you Monsieur, your eyes have betrayed you," She tells him, calmly trying to get out of the encounter.

"Ah- I know a beautiful woman when I see one, truly angelic," He purred, his voice getting lower in an attempt to seduce.

She may have been a patient woman, but she would retaliate if he forced himself upon her. Her patience wore thin when his hand lurched forward in an attempt to grab her. She drew her sword, the metal screech filling the silence. She held it to the man's jugular.

"It would be wise of you to return home before your force me to use this weapon against you," She hisses, her eyes narrowing in a malicious glare.

"It would be wise of you to know your place whore-"

At this point, the woman sliced her blade across his neck in a warning. She could have killed him, but she knew the man was drunk and would regret his actions in the morning. So she left him with a scar, a warning not to cross her or any other poor woman he may come across tonight. While he was stunned from pain, she pushed his shoulder causing him to fall on his backside with a groan.

"Return home." She repeated, with a stern glare.

She continued on after putting her sword back into its resting place. She was tired and knew the brothel she was staying in would be full and alive with people at this hour of the night. Men who claimed they were in love were out betraying their so called 'loved ones' for one fruitless night with a stranger.

The brothel was a quaint little place in the darker parts of Paris hidden from the rich and out in the open amongst the poor. It seemed like an ordinary place during the day. As the girl looks at the building now, she can see the shadows of people bustling about through the windows, girls screeches, giggles and men's hearty laughter.

She sighs pushing onwards to attempt to walk through the crowd without being man handled. It proved to be a difficult task as soon as she walked through the door. Men everywhere sat with a pitcher in one hand and a woman in the other. Hands reached towards her body, and she skillfully maneuvered around them. She wanted to growl at them, point her sword at them like she had done just moments ago. But this was the world we lived in, no matter how she despised it, this was the way women were treated.

"Madam! Miss Angeletta!" A woman's voice called from within the throng of people.

Angeletta recognized the woman calling her name, it was the owner of this establishment, Mama Sucile. She watched on with slight humor as she spots Sucile sitting on a young man's lap. Sucile is a mature woman, with fair blonde hair, deep smile lines and dark green eyes hidden behind hooded lids. The moment she met Sucile she acted as a second mother to her, much like she did to all of these girls, which is perhaps why they all called her Mama. That and her Italian roots.

"Hello, Sucile. Hello monsieur," she greeted the man who grinned bashfully back.

"Do come and have a drink, and tell me about your day, where did you venture off to today?" Sucile questions extending a pitched towards the girl.

"I'll have to refuse the offer. I've been to the south side of Paris exploring the woodlands there, I only just got back and would like nothing more than to retire for the night." Angeletta answered her, feeling as if she was being examined by men in the room.

"Will you ever go to see that sister you speak so fondly of?" She questions, shaking her head in disappointment at the girl. She has been through so much in England, now she is back, seeing her sister will surely lift her spirits. Sucile hated to see a woman so beautiful and full of potential wallow around alone and in a state of self-pity.

Sucile could only begin to imagine the things she saw during the war.

"I will- soon." Angeletta proclaimed, but she knew she was only saying the words, making no promise to see it through.

"I am headed into town tomorrow near the Populaire, you may join me if you wish?" Sucile offered in hope the girl would agree.

"I'll consider it, thank you, mama." With a curtsy, the girl left out the back door, to the rooms used by guests.

Her room was very quaint and didn't have much in it as she had only been here a week. A small single bed pressed up against the far wall, beside it a wooden wardrobe with its hinges nearly falling off. Besides a small lamp hanging from the ceiling, the only light provided was from the moon shining through the window at the end of her bed.

Disarming her belt, she laid it aside, followed by her corset, dress, and underclothes until she was only in her garments and Pantalones. She took a deep breath, and laid down on top of the sheets, closing her eyes she tried to drift off to sleep, not caring to put on her nightgown. Sleep never came in a peaceful manner, she was always assaulted by the images she saw at war. Children dying, women and men forcefully assaulted both physically and sexually, people tortured, battered and brutalized before her very eyes.

But the one person always tormented her dreams and followed her near every waking thought.

 _Benjamin_... the boy she couldn't save.


	3. One

_**I do not own the Phantom of the opera, only the characters, not from the original cast and the plot. I do not own any songs used in the story. This is a work of fiction based off the Phantom of the opera.**_

 _{~~}_

Angeletta got very little sleep, but with the sun burning her face she knew she would have to wake up. Getting dressed she puts on new undergarments, white breeches, white blouse with a brown leather corset over the top. Putting on her belt she grasps onto the handle of her sword feeling empowered.

She preferred to wear her war clothes to her skirts and dresses. Depiste the disgusted looks women and men threw her way and the judgemental comments, she couldn't find it in herself to care. It was not the way a woman was supposed to dress, trousers were for men, skirts for women.

But she is no ordinary woman.

Mama Sucile brightened up when she saw the young woman Angeletta walk into the main entrance. Though she didn't agree with the way she dressed, she would never shun her for it. Picking up her parasol to protect from the sun, she smiled taking the young lady's hands within hers.

"Good morning Madam," Angeletta lowered her head in greeting.

"Good morning, mademoiselle. Have you decided to accompany me today?" Sucile questions, walking with the young lady out in the street.

"I have, though I hope you don't mind that I spend the day with my sister?"

"Of course not," Scuile waves her hand in the air.

The women enter the waiting carriage and proceed into town. Once there the carriage pulls up directly out side the grand opera populaire a nervous feeling seeps into the pit of Angelettas stomach. She admires the building from the carriage, its grand walls, beautifully carved statues and grand entrance.

"Go, seek your sister," Sucile urges the frozen girl beside her.

With a heavy heart, the girl exits the carriage and enters the opera house. She stands in stunned awe at the sight before her.

"Bonjour! How may I be of service mademoiselle?" One of the managers asks the woman at the entrance.

"Bonjour, I was hoping to seek an audience with Miss Christine Daae?" Angeletta questions the short man, with a funny mustache.

His eyes widened in a comedic way, and he overlooks the woman's figure for the second time. He gulps upon seeing the glare of a sword at their hip.

"And whom may I ask wishes to speak with Miss Daee?" The man questions.

"Pardon, I am Angeletta Daae, her sister."

The man was rendered speechless for a moment but quickly went to work. leading the girl towards the diva room, where Miss Daae is. The girl thanked the man, stalling in fear at the door at how her sister was going to react.

Would she hate her for leaving her for war? Would she cry happy tears to have her back?

"Angel I will not let you down-"

Angeletta frowned at the sound of her sister's voice. Was she already entertaining someone? She knocked on the door out of politeness.

"One moment!" Her sister called out, a slight panic to her voice.

{~~}

Erik frowned from his position behind the mirror, he clenched his fist knowing who ever decided to disrupt him and his angels time would surely pay. He requested they not be disturbed. Their failure to meet his demands would only result in punishment.

Christine straightened her skirt, praying it was not Raoul at the door, for fear of what her angel would do. Opening the door, her heart stopped for a few beats seeing the old face of her sister. But this was not the kind hearted, smiling sister she remembered post war. Her once light green eyes held fierceness, covered by dark eye makeup. Her lips a rosier shade of pink than she remembers. But her skin held the same paleness like hers, it was a trait all her family shared. Instead of the usual attire expected of a woman, she wore men's white breeches, tight on her legs, and her fathers favorite sword on her belt.

Angeletta frowned seeing her sister over analyzing her face and body. Bracing herself, she waited for the shouting accusations of her wrong doings in the past. What she did not brace herself for was being pulled into a heart warming hug, by her sister. Resting her head on her shoulder, she awkwardly reciprocates, giving her back a slight rub.

"I cannot believe it! You have returned, my dear, dear sister has returned to me!" Christine exclaimed, placing a chaste kiss to her sister's cheek.

Angeletta did not know how to handle such a reaction and smiled to show her sister she was too glad to be here.

"I'm sorry to disturb you and your guest..." Angeletta trailed off when she saw the room behind her empty.

Was I mistaken? Christine was clearly speaking aloud to someone.

"I have no guest here with me," Christine corrects her, glancing towards the mirror.

Erik does not know of her sister's existence, it was the one this she could never bare to talk about. In fact, nobody knew of her sister. She would hate to think of the consequence she would face for not telling him about her. She knows he dislikes secrets between them. Lord knows he would be malicious towards her if he knew of her and the Vicomte's secret meetings.

"My apologies, I thought I heard you speaking to someone," Angeletta waves it off, even if she is convinced of what she heard. "May I come in?" She questions after a beat of silence.

"Of course," Christine insists after glancing at the mirror behind her.

Her sister cautiously looks around the room, a war technique she learned quickly upon finding a smuggler in her room only a month into fighting. It appeared to be empty to the naked eye. Taking a seat on the much too large couch, Angeletta looked around the room which did not reflect her sister at all. It seemed too- pink and extravagant for Christine. Though she knew by the expensive taste that her sister was a star here at the opera house.

"How have you been? The last time I remember seeing you were just a few weeks after our father had died," Angeletta felt a pang of guilt at the remark. "Where have you been all this time dear sister? The letter you left was very vague."

"I'm a so very sorry that I left in such a haste, I could not bare to stay in Paris a moment longer, there were too many painful memories. And it pained me so to leave you so heartbroken. I fled to England, I had heard rumors of a war there for a law to abolish slavery. It was a gruesome war, one that the country allowed women to fight in if it was their wish too. There weren't many, but some women to the opportunity to fight along the men for justice, as did I. As we speak England is a slave free country, any of those accused of slavery will be sentenced for their crimes," Angeletta told her sister, who gave her a proud smile.

Christine always knew her sister would do great things with her prowess in the art of fighting. True their father adored the arts, music was his great passion since he could remember. But his father and his father before him always trained the eldest son in the darker art, of battle. Father bore only two girls in his time, so with his eldest, Angeletta, he taught her the ways of fighting, despite her gender. She had a true talent for it from the start and soon feel in love with the deep thrill a fight can bring.

"He would be so very proud of you, as I am." Christine boasted in admiration.

"It is you he would be proud of. When I heard you were staying at the Opera house I was overwhelmed with pride for you. I knew this was your dream since a little girl, even fathers. He even promised before his passing that he would send an angel of music to you, and it seems he has, look at what you have accomplished," Angeletta pointed out, gesturing to the room around her.

Christine sunk slightly at the compliments, redness coating her cheeks. She didn't realize how much her sister's opinion meant until she heard it from her lips. To hear a woman of her strong stature proud of what she has done is as heartwarming as hearing her angel of music's praises after her first performance. She leaned towards her sister grasping her hands with her own tightly. She knew that her angel of music maybe listening to her and her sister speak, but she had to tell her. She had to know that their father kept his word, and did, in fact, send her an angel of music.

"Angeletta, our father spoke the truth, he did send down an Angel of music. His voice has guided me, taught me to sing. He is the reason for my achievements here," Christine confided to her sister.

Disbelief flashed across the older sisters face upon hearing this. She never believed in angels and Gods, they were figures used to bring hope to peoples lives. Hope she lost when her father died. Christine's eyes seemed so full of truth as she spoke like she truly believed this man to be an angel sent by their father.

"You mean figuratively, of course?" Angeletta questioned, considering she merely meant her tutor had a voice comparable to an angel.

"He's real Angeletta." She insisted inching closer. "I hear his voice in my mind, I have seen him in the flesh, he wears a mask on one side of his face, but for what you can see he is a beautiful man. Many believe him to be a phantom a ghost who haunts this opera house. But he is not, he is an angel looking down over me. Father sent him, I know he did," She insists, eyes wild as she spoke.

When Angeletta thought of this moment, she did not expect their reunion to go like this.

"You said you have seen him in the flesh, angels do not have flesh, Christine. The man you speak of has made a fool out of you-"

"Why don't you believe me?" Christine stood, holding her stomach as it coiled in despair.

"You have not seen the darkness that exists in this world if you had you would not speak of foolish things like angels."

"War has changed you, sister," Christine sighs, lowering her head.

"Perhaps it has-" Angeletta stands to her feet. "I have upset you, I'm sorry. I did not mean to be so harsh."

"Please do not leave, I only just got you back," Christine pleads.

Angeletta could not deny her sister. After all the visit reminded her that she already broke her heart before for leaving, she could not do it again. To bring that pain of loss upon her sister once again so soon would be a crime.

"I will not leave until you send me away," Angeletta promises.


	4. Two

**_I do not own the Phantom of the opera, only the characters, not from the original cast and the plot. I do not own any songs used in the story. This is a work of fiction based off the Phantom of the opera._**

{~~}

Erik watched his love and the mysterious woman leave the room before he followed after them using his secret tunnels. He was seething from his angel Christine's betrayal. How many times must he show her his love, before she succumbs to him? She has not yet given him her loyalty. If that was the case, word of her sister would have already been spoken.

Her sister, Angeletta was quite unlike his angel Christine. Where Christine was pure, innocent and a light in this world, Angeletta was the opposite. She radiated darkness. Though Erik could not deny she was beyond tempting, a beauty alike Christine. She was so alluring, so impure, it was clear she had been through horrors, maybe even horrors that measured up to his own past. A woman with a background of war. She walked like a man would, with pride and power, not an ounce of fear. A true dark temptation.

He could not find it in him to care for the girl though, not after what he heard her tell his angel. She knew of his lies without even meeting him. She tried in vain to convince her of 'the angel of music' true nature, and he fears it might have worked. His angel may no longer believe his lies.

"Raoul! I have a surprise for you,"

Erik paused on the rafters at hearing his angels voice. He clenched his hands into fists at hearing the Vicomte name being called out. If that fob lays a hand on her I shall wring him by his neck-

"Angeletta...Do my eyes deceive me? Or is this strong woman before me truly the same girl who confessed her love to me a decade ago?" Raoul teased.

Angeletta gave a coy smile while rolling her eyes at the man before her. He offered his hand towards the woman, who placed her hand in his. Before his lips could meet the back of his hand she pulled it away with a smug smirk.

"I see you still like to play childish games with men," Raoul laughed, lowering his hand.

"And I see you are still gullible, a true man," Angeletta teased.

It was the first time she had smiled genuinely in a while. Raoul was a childhood friend, though Angeletta was quite older than her sister and Raoul she couldn't deny Raoul was a good looking boy in the past. It seems his looks have followed him into adulthood.

"It is good to see you again Angeletta." Raoul bowed to her.

"As it was to see you," She curtsied, her face scrunching in distaste while doing so.

Erik watched in fascination at the older sister stand to the side, while Christine and Raoul spoke of the up coming opera, Hannibal. She stares unblinkingly at a wall, lost in her thoughts. He wonders what she could be thinking. By her expression, it mustn't be happy thoughts. His eyes soak her in, like the first day he laid eyes upon Christine he was enticed by the woman's beauty.

When you are damned to walk the earth with a grotesque face, it makes a women's beauty that more mesmerizing. And Angeletta was by far mesmerizing. The longer he stared at her the more he craved her, it was as if he was being hypnotized in so way. Her allure, the darkness, was pulling him towards her making him crave the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. Her fragrance beneath his nose. Her body writhing against his in lust induced euphoria.

"Good day, Madamousiels." Raoul bids the women goodbye with a bow.

Both women curtsey. Angeletta less graceful in doing so than her sister.

Erik scolds himself for not listening to the fob's conversation with his angel. He ignored the whole conversation because he was so entranced with that-

"I must be on my way soon, it is getting dark out and I have quite the distance to travel," Angeletta announces to her sister.

Erik focuses back on the scene before him, intently.

"Where are you staying?" Christine questions.

"A brothel house on the north side of Paris,"

A brothel house, I should have known by the way she carries herself, Erik thought darkly. It would explain the allure and temptation she radiates, it is part of her job to lure men in for money. He was disgusted by his earlier thoughts, knowing that she is already impure.

"Oh my, sister if it is money you seek I can give you however much you need-"

"I do not need money sister, you are mistaken. The brothel is merely a temporary home during my stay here, not a place of work." Angeletta corrected her.

Erki felt relief at the news, though he wishes he didn't feel that way. Why should he care about the women's indiscretions? He did not know her.

"Temporary?" Christine frowns, then realization crosses her face. "You are not staying here in Paris, are you?"

Angeletta lowers her head, not used to being looked at with such lovingness. It has been too long since she was in the company of a person she loves. It was weird to see such compassion after being surrounded by so much death and agony.

"Somewhere in the world, there are people with a lot of power who have different opinions. I believe that war will one day be the cause of the extinction of the human race. If I can in anyway help the prevention of that, then I will gladly do so," Angeletta answered, with pride.

"But you could die," Christine countered.

"Then I would have died a fighter."

Christine knew her argument was useless. In her sister's eyes, she had nothing to stay in Paris for, war seemed to be her life. Even her own sister wouldn't be able to make her stay. The thought saddened her deeply.

"Then you shall spend the time here with me, if our time together is going to be short I want to spend as much of it with you as I can. I will talk to the managers about arranging a room for you to stay in," Christine said.

"There is no need to burden yourself-"

"Don't be foolish Angeletta, it would be a pleasure to have you here. And if you are to stay for a fortnight you will be able to watch my performance in the upcoming opera," Christine boasts in excitement.

"I wouldn't dare miss it," Angeletta grinned back at her sister.

Erik dwelled for a moment longer when the women left. The sister was to stay here at the opera house, which no doubt meant his precious time with his angel would be cut short. He loathed the woman for that reason, but a part of him was glad the woman would be staying here. It gave him more time to learn about the fair Angeletta. Afterall, if all goes to plan, she could turn out to be his sister in law.


	5. Three

**I do not own the Phantom of the opera, only the characters, not from the original cast and the plot. I do not own any songs used in the story. This is a work of fiction based off the Phantom of the opera.**

{~~}

A chipper Christine carried a tray full of food and freshly squeezed orange juice towards her sister's room. Dawn had risen, and the sun beamed brightly over Paris. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits this morning. But none could hold a candle to Christine happiness.

Without knocking on the door, Christine entered her sister room, seeing her disheveled and tangled in a mess of bed sheets. She was fast asleep, snoring lightly with her lips parted and face buried in a pillow. A light laugh escaped her mouth at the sight. Gently Christine placed the tray down.

Angeletta heard the quite noise beside her head and could feel the presence of someone close by. Without hesitation she drew her sword, rising out of bed to face the intruder. She was ashamed to look into the startled eyes of her sister, whose neck had her blade against.

"I'm sorry Christine, you startled me," Angeletta apologized profusely, dropping her sword.

"It's alright, no harm no foul," Christine joked, gulping back her fear. "I brought you some breakfast, I'm afraid I have rehearsals today, but you could accompany me later for a walk, I would love to show you the near by river."

"I would like that. Thank you," Angeletta gave her sister a heart warming smile before she dismissed herself.

Angeletta was ashamed that she had held her sword up to her own sister's neck. _Her father's sword_... She ran a hand through her knotted hair taking a deep breath. If she had not taken a moment to see who her intruder was she would have driven the sword through her sister without a second hesitation.

After eating and dressing for the day in the same clothes as the day before, Angeletta took a carriage back to the brothel. She explained the situation to mama Sucile who was more than happy for the young woman. She packed up her things and promised to visit before leaving Paris again. When she returned to the opera house everywhere but the stage was quite as rehearsals took place. Angeletta dumped her belongings into her quarters, before venturing off deeper into the unknown corridors of the opera house.

Unknown to her that a certain Opera ghost lurked in the shadows following her every move with a penetrating stare.

A curious Angeletta stopped outside of a chapel door in curiosity. As she moved closer she saw a single candelabra on the floor with a portrait of her late father above it. Upon seeing it she collapsed to her knees staring at it with tears building up in her eyes. Taking out her sword she places it across her lap, staring into the eyes on the portrait.

"I am so sorry Father. I hope you forgive me for leaving Christine, for going to war, for killing-" She chokes out.

She wished she could hear his voice, seek solace in her father once more. Would he tell her to stop fighting? Of course, he was her teacher in the field, but he never told her to fight in other men's battles only her own. She knew without having to ask that he would want her to stay with Christine, keep her safe and be her kind loving older sister.

"I have lost my way father." She cries out, lowering her head.

She was rewarded with silence. Her foolish mind let her think for a second that maybe the Angel Christen spoke of was real. Would he speak to her? she felt a fool for even thinking of it. But she already acted a fool for talking to a portrait of her father, who could not hear her.

Erik waited silently in the shadows watching the girl conflict between emotions. Sadness, pain, anger, back to sadness. He knew he was intruding on a private matter, but he could not keep away from the woman for some strange reason.

" _Be still, my love_

 _I will return to you_

 _However far you feel from me,_ " Angeletta began to sing the song her father wrote just before his tragic illness took him.

Erik moved forward entranced, eyes closed as the sweetest sound graced his ears.

" _You are not alone_

 _I will always be waiting_

 _And I'll always be watching you_ ," Angeletta continued, taking a moment to place a kiss on the handle of the sword.

" _Speak to me, speak to me, speak to me,_ "

Erik moved closer, his head swaying to the angelic sound of her voice. Was that a call out to him? Was she seeking to speak with him as his Christine did?

"Is it me you are calling out to mademoiselle?" Erik questioned aloud.

Angeletta drew in a sharp breath, clasping onto the handle of the sword and standing to her feet. Before she could defend herself the candle blew out and left her standing in the darkness, blindly pointing her sword into the air. The voice sounded as if it were coming from each direction of the room.

She closed her eyes, as they rendered a useless sense in the dark. By doing so she heightened her other senses, focusing on her hearing. It took a moment for her to hear it but soon the steady sound of a person exhaling could be heard besides her. Her hand immediately reached out clutching the forearm of a man, her sword following suit in the same direction. Before it could strike the man it was knocked out of her grasp cluttering to the floor.

"I mean you no harm, Madam," The velvety voice declared.

The pit of her stomach coiled in a strange sensation at his voice.

"Excuse me for my rash actions, but I have every right to be wary when in the presence of a foreign man in the darkness," Angeletta informed him.

Erik took a deep breath relishing in the tight grip in which she held onto his arm. It was exquisite to be so close to her. He could smell a strong scent coming from her, like freshly squeezed lemons. Taking a risk- knowing she was unarmed- he took a step closer to inhale it some more.

"It would be wise to keep your distance, monsieur," She warned.

"Must I point out that you are the one holding onto me," The man pointed out.

"And I shall keep on holding onto you until I see you as no longer a threat. Who are you?" She asks, feeling his muscles flex under her fingertips.

He yearned to reach out and touch her, just once, an innocent stroke to her cheek perhaps.

"I have been called by many names over the years..." He trails off, after giving her a vague answer.

"Your name, monsieur," She insisted, tightening her grip in warning.

A sweet shiver ran through his body as she did so.

"Erik Destler," Erik knew the woman was highly intelligent, if he had answered with any of his other names, she would know exactly who he is.

"Erik..." The man felt a shift in his pants at the sound of his true name coming from her lips. "What are you doing in here, Monsieur Destler?"

Angeletta knew she should pick up her sword, in fact fighting him off should have been the first thing she did when she grasped him. But instead, she found herself having a civil conversation with the mysterious man. She wished she could see him, for his voice was playing cruel tricks on her body. He sounded very handsome, his voice deep, but smooth like velvet. Perhaps it was the darkness that made his voice sound so sensual to her. Never had she been intrigued by a man, from only hearing his voice.

"I was walking past and I couldn't help but over here your singing, you have a lovely voice, like an angel," He compliments.

No-one has ever complimented her on her voice before, it was always Christien who was praised for her singing. In fact, until now no-one but her father had heard her sing. It wasn't something she enjoyed. She would only sing because her father enjoyed it so much.

She realized that the silence was stretching on and she had yet to thank him. "Thank you," Angeletta mumbled out, not used to such sincere compliments for a man.

"Have I proven that I am not a threat to you yet?" He questions, taking a step closer, feeling his side brush against her front.

"Perhaps I just don't want to let go," Angeletta daringly stated after feeling her body tremble at the slight brush of his body against hers. Her mind was already wandering to the dark places of her mind, and she didn't even know the man.

Erik was stunned into silence at this point, was the siren before him really seducing him? If she could see the hideous face behind the mask she would not be so forthcoming with him. And if she learned of his true nature, how he has been toying with her sister, she would surely drive her sword through his chest.

"Do you want me to let go?" Angeletta asks, pushing her body closer to his, her free hand reaching out and running over his chest.

No, never let go, Erik wants to plead to her. His eyes roll back in pleasure at the feeling of a woman's hands touching him so tenderly. So sensually. The grip on his arm disappears and suddenly there are two hands on his chest, inching their way up to his neck in a caress.

Erik's body suddenly disappears from beneath her fingertips when the chapel door opens and the darkness is flooded by candle light. Angeletta looks around in a daze for the man, but there is no one there. Picking up her sword, she places it back into the holder on her belt. _Where could he have gone in such a haste?_

"Angeletta, what are you doing standing in the darkness by yourself?" Christine questions, coming towards her sister.

"I-" She stopped realizing telling her innocent sister about what happened would be a wrong idea. "I was just saying a prayer to father."

"I often come here to speak with him also. Sometimes the angel of music comes and speaks to me here. He tells me that father sends his love and is always watching over me," Christine tells her sister with a dreamy, smile.

"You must stop talk of such foolish things, angels do not exist, and when I meet the man who has tricked you in to thinking such things I will drive my sword through him," Angeletta threatens with a snarl at the man taking advantage of her sister.

"No, you mustn't hurt him," Christine pleads.

"Let's not speak of talk of angels or ghosts. Are you finished with your rehearsals now?" Angeletta questions, not wanting to upset her sister.

"Yes, I am," Christine answered with a confused frown.

"Excellent, you can show me to this river you spoke of then?" Angeletta reminded her, walking out of the chapel with one last glance around the room for the mysterious man.

"Of course." Christine's frown turned into a smile at being able to show her sister her favorite discovery. "If there is one thing I remembered about my dear sister if how much she loves to explore new places."

Angeletta knows that if she were to meet with this man calling himself her 'angel of music' she would not hesitate to harm him. Christine is innocent. He is clearly praying upon her by pretending to be the promised angel sent by our dead father. It's almost like he has poisoned her mind into trusting him. She denies the truth as soon as it is said.

Her mind wanders to Erik, her stomach swarming with a foreign light feeling. She hopes that this will not be the last time she meets him. For when they meet next they will not be drowned in the darkness, where she cannot see the face of the mystery man. They will be in the light, and she will see the face of the man who has her so captivated, from just one meeting together.

{~~}

Erik lets out a deep breath once the women left the chapel where he waited behind a trap door listening in. Angeletta had awoken a deep longing in him now that she had so openly touched him. He knew from that point that there was no return for his desire towards Christine as a new angel, dark and impure stood with open arms towards him. But one problem lay in his way. He is the angel of music, and Angeletta has made her hatred for him very clear.

He retreats back to his home beneath the opera house. Ripping his cloak from his shoulder, he chucks it to the ground in his anger. Taking to his easel, he picks up a pencil already inspired by Angeletta's beauty, wanting to capture it in a drawing.

She may want to kill the angel of music, but she has shown Erik a kindness no woman, not even Christine has shown. He could feel in in the way she touched him, she craved Erik the same way he craved her.

If Erik is who she want's, then Erik is who she'll have.


End file.
